Against the Odds
by Senecas Beard
Summary: Annie is a poor, mad, homeless girl. Finnick is an orphan on the run from a life of certain slavery. Both are struggling. But maybe, together, they'll be able to beat the odds. Odesta. AU/Present Day. Please read and review? :
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my idea for a little Odesta story. Turned out much darker than I thought, but I really like it. Hope you do too!**_  
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_It's dark. Stormy. Cold. An icy wind blows through our empty, tiny, beat up house. I can hear the waves crashing outside, because we live near the harbour. I'm crying, bawling, about to lose my mind. My dad's having a client over. I don't like it. I never will. But when he's a known drug dealer, I can't get involved or I die. My dad has my wrists locked in his hands. I struggle to pull loose and cry out a single word._

_"No!" _

_"In the closet, Annie! And stay down!" He smacks me in the head, causing me to shriek out in pain. He forcefully binds my wrists and puts me in the closet, shutting the door firmly._

_"Don't talk," he orders. I'm about to disobey and scream out, when the door opens and his client walks in, a massive, violent looking, hulk of a man. I close my mouth and shrink down, peering through a tiny hole in the door. There's a heated argument. The man is yelling at Dad. Dad yells back. The man snatches a bag of Dad's drugs. Dad demands something- money, probably. The man reaches into his pocket. I think it's the money, and don't realize what it is until it's too late._

_A knife. It comes down once, twice, three times, and the walls are spattered in red. Red. Red, red, red. Everywhere. One more slash and my dad is on his knees, fingers scrabbling at his chest frantically as blood pours out of wounds all over his body. He collapses, jerking, as more red bubbles up out of his mouth. The massive man leaves. With all my might, I kick the door of the closet until it bursts open and I spill out onto the ground. Tears are rapidly pouring down my face and I'm crying and struggling to breathe. I wrench my hands out of their bondings and run over to Dad._

_He's motionless. I kneel beside him, look at the pale white face, the staring eyes, the bloody slash across his neck, the blood dribbling out of his mouth. Blood. Redness. Everywhere. The storm crashes on. I stand up, shaking, and look at myself. My hands are red. My arms. My jeans. My white t-shirt. There's red everywhere, all over me, the walls, the floor. I stare, sobbing and hyperventilating and I begin to scream. On and on. _

_And my mind shatters._

_So I run. Stumbling, cold, covered in the red that is permanently seared into my memory. I run._

I snap back to reality, jerking up and smacking my head against the wall. The memories. Always coming back to me. When I sleep. When I'm awake. I squeeze my green eyes shut and place my hands over my ears, blocking out the sound from the outside world. But I can still hear the screaming. My dad's yells of agony as the red gushed everywhere. The murderer's yells of rage. My tortured, wailing screams of horror. The memory threatens to resurface. _Stop_, I yell inside my head. But the screams don't stop. _Stop. Stop. Stop. Leave me alone!_ I open my eyes and realized I've shouted the last part. There is a man, well dressed, professional, staring at me blankly.

Tears run down my face. "Can you make it stop?" I ask weakly, huddled in a ball against a building.

"Are you crazy?" he asks, with a look of disgust on his face. He hurries away, briefcase in hand.

_Crazy. I'm not crazy. _I stand up and run, down the clogged street of cars, through throngs of people who look at me in disgust just like the man. To them, I'm just a dirty homeless girl. They can't help me. They won't help me. I run down to the docks, the polluted harbour, where there are less people. The sounds of the waves are calming. All the while I'm trying to silence the screaming in my head. I trip suddenly. Fall. Land on the asphalt, skinning my knee.

It's bleeding. Red. I clutch it and rock silently, screaming inside. The pain is real. The red is real. But the screams aren't.

_Not real. You're not real. Get out of my head! I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy._

_But you are,_ the nasty voice whispers. _You're just a poor mad girl. Crazy. Lost._

_Get out of my head,_ I think. _You aren't real. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy_. I stare at the water, force myself to think of nothing but the water. The waves. And slowly, the voices die away, and my head is silent. Quiet. The way it should be. I walk over and lean over the water, catching glimpse of my reflection. I rake my hands through my ratty dark hair, but it refuses to flatten or untangle. Maybe Katniss has stolen some toiletries for me. She's another homeless girl, talented at stealing- or as she likes to call it- hunting. I can always find her at night time by looking for a fire around the abandoned docks. That's based on her nickname. The Girl on Fire. Maybe if I visit her tonight she'll have some bread from the bakery. She knows a boy who works there, and sometimes he gives her leftover bread that we share. She's younger than me, only 14 while I'm 16, but I consider her my best friend.

I peer at the sky. Dark clouds are gathering. I need to prepare for a wet night tonight. Shelter. I need shelter. Somewhere by the docks, in one of the empty factories, maybe.

Once I find a spot, I curl up as the rain pours down and the dark visions begin in my dreams again.

_Crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm Annie Cresta. Not crazy. Not crazy. Not crazy..._

**And there's the ending of chapter 1 (short, yes, but..)! I really hope you like this, I have a ton of ideas (by the way, I'm still working on my SYOT, so don't worry!) and I'm looking forward to writing it! Truly, Odesta is my one true pairing and Finnick & Annie are probably my favorite characters. Please review! It'd be so awesome if you would! Also, I promise you Finnick in the next chapter :D**


	2. Chapter 2

******_Annie._**

I've made it through the night. Wet, cold, exhausted, but that's nothing new. Eventually my mind was quiet and I was able to get a bit of sleep. I'm not really sure where I ended up. Southern part of the city, for sure, just nearby the dirty old docks, where the shadows of the office buildings fall on the smaller, older houses and apartments that are slowly crumbling away. Crumbling away. Just like me.

There are more people like me down here. Huddled in alleyways, door frames of graffitied buildings, holding up cardboard signs asking for money from those better off. I hear a garbled muttering from an alleyway I just passed. From the smell of alcohol, I immediately know who it is.

Haymitch Abernathy, this area's resident drunkard. He staggers around and drinks until he's saturated in liquor. He's got shaggy dark hair and constant stubble, and he always acts gruff but sometimes, when he's less drunk (unlikely) he's a little nice to me. Just a little.

It appears he's dead drunk right now, and he staggers up to me clutching an empty bottle in his hand.

"Well, if it isn't the mad girl," he says, reeking of liquor.

_Mad. You're utterly mad. Your mind's going, you're losing it, it's gone, you crazy little girl._

"No," he growls suddenly. "You're not mad. You're just a little-" He forces his head up and his eyes meet my wide green ones. "-lost. Just lost."

"Yes, Haymitch," I reply. "I'm lost." Lost. Crazy. Broken.

He belches. Lifting a finger, he hazily points to a taller building nearby. "If you're lost, why don't you try- try there...?" With that, he staggers away humming something under his breath.

I look at the building he pointed to. Snow's Orphanage.

I didn't think orphanages existed anymore, not here, not in the US. But this one's old. A few boarded up wooden windows. Crumbly bricks. The sign is old, and the paint is flaking. I stare, become absorbed in the old building, searching out every line, every crack, every chip- suddenly, my eyes fill with tears for this old building, this kids inside, who must be so sad. Everything is sad here. The orphanage, the kids inside, me...

_Annie. Wake up_.

Someone's looking at me. The second floor window. A boy. I catch his eyes, a brilliant sea green colour. Then they're gone.  
I must look so odd staring at this building.

How long have I been standing here like this? Long enough.

And suddenly the memories return for another dose of pain.

_You're a mad, mad, little girl_... My thoughts sound like Haymitch.

Before I know it, I'm on the ground hugging my knees, crying like a baby_. Make this stop! Why won't it stop? Why won't it stop, Daddy? I sound like a child. _

_"Daddy, where's Mommy?"_

_My 7 year old self is curious. My dark brown hair is up in a pair of pigtails and I grin up at him with a gap-toothed smile. Mommy hasn't been home for a few days, not since she left the other night with a big bag._

_"She won't be back for a while," he says._

_"Is she on vacation?" I ask._

_"No, Annie." He lights up on a cigar._

_"Where?"_

_He slams his fist on the table. "She's not coming back, Annie! Just shut up!"_

_My eyes fill with tears. Daddy's never told me shut up before._

_"Get out!" He swipes a hand at me. I dodge it and run into my room, hiding under the bed. I start to cry._

_"Why did you leave, Mommy?"_

_Mommy..._

"Mommy?"

I open my eyes and look around. "Where are you, Mommy? Where did you go?"

I blink once, twice, three times. I'm not 7. I'm 16. Mommy's been gone a while now. And I'm not...I'm not home. No. I'm...

outside the orphanage. _Annie. You're losing your grip on reality._

* * *

"Finnick!" Snow is calling. I lean on the dusty windowsill and gaze out the window, frowning. Whatever he wants, I'm not gonna enjoy it, so I'm waiting an extra 5 minutes before I answer his call. The window is dingy and cracked, matching the rest of my tiny room in this junky place. Suddenly, I notice a girl standing in front of the orphanage. Huh. Usually kids avoid this hellhole. Orphanages aren't happy places to begin with, but this is probably the worst. Snow's Orphanage is around 75 years old, and it's crumbling to pieces. I've been here since I was little and my parents ditched me. I resent them for it. Snow is a nasty old man who reminds me of a lizard. The whole orphanage stinks of his roses, and he forces us to work, every day. I feel like CinderFinnick.

The girl is staring blankly at the orphanage, an odd expression on her face. Her green eyes are wide, her dark hair is wildly tangled, and she's got blood trickling out from a scrape on her knee. She's covered in dirt. Homeless? Insane? Probably both. Her eyes move upward and meet mine. Her mouth opens, just slightly.

"Finnick Odair!" Snow sounds angry now. I better go.

I walk down the grey, cramped, hallway and squeeze down the thin row of stairs. It was easy to walk down them when I was little, but now that I'm 17, tall, and muscular, it's not as simple. I meet Snow in the foyer, and stand up straight.

"Finnick," he hisses.

"Yes, Mr. Snow?" I reply, putting emphasis on the "Mister."

"Ms. Coin has someone she wants you to meet. Do what you need to do." Ms. Coin is Snow's assistant. Oddly enough, they don't get along. I think she wants to chuck Snow out and take over the joint. But she's no nicer than he is. She's a strict, pinched, no-nonsense lady with pin straight gray hair and the type of face an evil stepmother would have. I hate her almost as much as I hate Snow. Almost. I sigh.

"Yes, sir." I walk into our "meeting room," the place where kids would go to meet possible parents, but it's almost always empty. No one ever stops by here, aside from the occasional Social Service worker or child aid. Snow and Coin clean the place up and make us plaster on big fake smiles and make it look like we just _love_living here in this happy, happy place. They fall for it every time. Coin's in there, with a thin woman wearing disgusting amounts of makeup, the tightest of tight shirts, and a mini skirt. I think it's supposed to be appealing, but it works the opposite way.

"Finnick," Coin says. "This is Tanya. Her and I have been discussing a possible adoption."

Another one. In this orphanage, for me only, "adoption" means some trashy woman's interested in my looks, and wants to take me home for sex, use me, then bring me back. It's awful, and I can't stand it, but Snow and Coin make a fair amount of money off of it (none going to me, of course.) So really, I have no choice. I'm like a young prostitute. I hate it. But I absolutely can't refuse or do anything about it. If I refuse, I know Snow will find some way to punish me. He won't touch me, I'm sure. But he has full control over the other kids in this place, and he's not afraid to hurt them if it means I'll do what he wants. So I do it. It's incredibly degrading. My body's not even mine anymore. I don't even own myself. It's just there to be rented out to anyone who wants it. Tanya leans close, deliberately sticking out her chest.

"Hello, Finnick," she says. I say nothing, just like I always do. She turns to Coin. "He's a handsome one, for sure. I like his eyes."

That's probably the millionth time I've heard that. They talk for a while, while I stand silently in the corner, answering a few questions with my "sexy" persona on. Lowered eyelids, different voice, moistening my lips ever so slightly. Snow and Coin have made sure I perfect it so they get money every time. After a while, Tanya (who I have slowly come to hate) and Coin shake hands and agree that she'll take me home tomorrow.

I go to my room after, brooding and preparing for tomorrow, which is gonna be terrible. There's only so many times a guy can be violated before he loses himself. I think I'm reaching that point. There's a knock on the door. I turn around, expecting to see Snow but instead it's Mags.

Mags is one of the maids who works here. She's older, but she's always been kind to me and the other kids because she knows that Snow and Coin are brutal. She's the only real friend I have.

"Finnick?" She walks in and sits down beside me on my bed. The sun is going down. "Are you alright?"

"Hey, Mags," I say softly. "I'm being adopted again."

She frowns. "I saw. That one looks especially trashy."

I nod quietly. "Guaranteed."

She looks out the window at the pink sky. "One day, Finnick, you will get out of this place. You'll find a real girl who loves you."

"I hope so, Mags."

She offers me a thin smile. "Remember what I always say. Look at the big world out there, outside this little orphanage, and say to yourself-" We recite it together. "Finnick Odair is destined for great things."

Maybe. Maybe I can get out of here- run away, find somebody real, get Snow and Coin thrown in jail like they should be, become a great person...

A scream interrupts my thoughts. It's a girl's scream. Me and Mags exchange glances and we walk downstairs, where I go to the front window and slide it open. There is a girl out there, the one from earlier with the ratty brown hair and the big green eyes. She's curled in a ball near the front steps, and it's clear she's the one who screamed. She jumps up and stares at me. There's still blood on her knee.

I lean on the windowsill. "Hey, you!" She flinches. "You okay?"

No response. She steps closer, eyes growing wider.

"Are you hurt?"

Her lips move, just slightly, and she whispers a word. "No." She repeats it louder. "No. I'm just..." Her stare goes oddly blank again. "...lost." Her voice is so soft I can barely make out what she's saying. I close the window and check to see if Snow or Coin are around. They aren't. Good. I open the front door and step outside onto the old porch. She backs up with a tremble, before wheeling around and running away.

"Hang on- wait!" But it's too late. She's gone, vanished into the dark. I turn and walk back inside before Snow can chew me out for going out without permission.

I head up to my room, cringing at the thought of Tanya tomorrow.

I need to get out of here.

There's chapter 2! Hope you enjoyed it, I know modern age AU's aren't very common in Hunger Games fanfiction, so if you did read this, you're awesome. Maybe even leave a review? :)

Until next chapter! (which might have some more Annie/Finnick dialogue!)  
~Hollie


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